


All Hail The New King

by Vexed_Wench



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Supernatural
Genre: Community: intoabar, Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Phobias, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:43:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1826710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexed_Wench/pseuds/Vexed_Wench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam goes from being the loser of the what must be the latest round of prank wars to the all time winner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hail The New King

Sam stormed out of his brother’s beloved Impala and headed for the first building he saw. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and blinked in the dim interior. Great, of all the places he could hide from Dean, he walked into a damn bar. He wondered how long it would be until Dean came waltzing through the door. Why couldn’t he have found Ye Olde Book Shoppe or whatever it would be called in this place?

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. He slowly sipped his beer and tried to think of one good reason why they were here. Dean had been closed mouth about the whole trip. He swore he had all the research they needed and Sam should just trust him. Sam figured as much crap as he had put Dean through over the last few years he should cut him a little slack. That was until Dean pulled up in the middle of Old West Square or whatever the name of this place was. Maybe he shouldn’t have napped on the drive out there. Dean refused to tell him anything useful about where they were going. When he saw the old time western kitschy looking street he stormed off, before Dean could say a word.

Sam was tempted to bang his head on the bar repeatedly, but settled for just putting his head down on the dark wooden bar. He really was an idiot for just stomping off like that. Maybe there was a real reason they were here? He should have trusted Dean more.

He looked up when he heard the bartender walk over to where he was sitting. He had placed a mug of what Sam assumed was Irish coffee in front of him and took the empty bottle with him.

“I figure if we are in here drinking this early these would be more appropriate.” The guy, who had been sitting at the other end of the bar, was now standing beside Sam. “May I?” he asked, nodding at the stool.

“Yeah, sure thanks, man.” Sam reached for his coffee and wondered why he never thought to order them.

“So...” The guy started and Sam realized he must have been waiting for an introduction. He cursed his own stubborn streak once more for running out on Dean before he knew their cover story. “Sam,” he simply said.

“John,” the other replied and raised his glass to Sam. “What brings you to this fine little town, Sam?” John asked him.

Shit, Sam had no idea how to answer that. He had left in a fit and never got the details of their cover story. There were too many possible cover stories for Sam to hope to pick the right one. Dean could have easily told half the towns folk they were F.B.I or freelance journalists.

“My partner enjoys anything with an Old West theme. It’s rather disturbing really.” Sam sighed, still irritated. He thought partner would cover almost anything Dean came up with.

“I hear you, Buddy, mine’s the same way. He is not from around here and is fascinated by the Old West. That I can overlook, but when I found out about the convention, I knew I had to take a timeout. If I had stayed there I may have tried to kill him,” John started to explain, before continuing, “Don’t get me wrong, we have a great time together. I really appreciate the effort he put into this whole weekend away he planned. I remind myself being a foreigner he really did go above and beyond. I just wish he had a better grasp on something here in the states.”

Sam saw the older man looked a little flush at the end. Maybe it was the coffee catching up to him; surely he wasn't blushing over a weekend in an Old West themed town.

“What didn't translate well?” Sam wondered aloud.

“Just the main convention that rented out most of the town and that I am a long time sufferer of Coulrophobia,” John whispered as if it were a national secret.

“Fuck...no...” was all Sam could stutter. There were clowns in an OldWest town? What had he done to Dean to make him want to get him back this badly?

“Yeah, Buddy, rodeo clowns.” John drained his mug and signaled for another. Sam did the same.

“Why clowns? Cheesy old timey Western is bad enough, but he had to throw clowns in the mix?” Sam knew he was whining and didn’t care. He still was uneasy around clowns. He may have told Dean the cases with them had helped, but he was just trying not to be the Princess for once.

When they had finished the next round of coffee, John turned to Sam and asked, “Your partner, does he have anything you can exploit? It might make you feel better? Mine, I’ll be paying back when we get home.” John grinned.

“Sadly, just flying, so not really unless you have an airplane stashed out back.” Sam sighed.

“As luck would have it, my brother Dave just bought a company jet and has asked me to fly it this weekend to see how it handles. Between you and me, I think he’s trying to tempt me to come home more often. Not that a jet will compete with what I am used to flying. It’s still nice of him. If you want, I can take you both with us when we go up tomorrow.” John grinned and Sam realized he would be the all time prank war winner for this move.

“Sure.” Sam grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt (s): Sam Winchester walks into a bar and meets... John Sheppard!


End file.
